The Dreams of Angels
by Ifyoulovemesmile
Summary: Destiel AU. Where Dean, Sam, Charlie and Jo somehow end up joining the circus. They meet a lion tamer with a sweet tooth, a sword swallower with too much wit, a snake charmer who really knows how to commit, a hot red headed trapeze artist and a psychic that really gets under Dean's skin. It's a melting pot of crazy, and they love it.
1. Prologue

_Author's Note: I uploaded his story a couple days ago, but decided I needed to tweak it a bit to get it right. Well here it is! I should say that I love the circus, and think that the SPN characters really work where I've put them. Anyway, let me know what you think! I'm also rating this a T to start. I may change it later, but for now there's just some language. If it's too much, just let me know._

_Brought to you by the Cirque Du Soleil pandora station. It's wonderful. _

_This is my first Destiel, so I hope it works. _

_Also, my french translations are provided by Google, so I'll be keeping them simple. Just in case. :D_

* * *

Prologue:

* * *

_It's the summer of 1989. _

_The temperature is in the 90s and you can feel the heat on your neck; sweat is dripping down the back of the Ghostbusters T-shirt that you got for Christmas the previous year. The sound of the ace of spade clapping against your bike wheel accompanies the call of the local birds. _

_On a normal day, the heat would push you in the direction of the lake or movie theater. Not today. Today, you peddle faster than you ever have before. _

_You have been waiting for this day for a week, ever since the flyers started to blow around town. They were stuffed under doors, stapled to telephone poles, and plastered to windows. When you first saw it in the corner of the barber shop you had begged to take it home. The surly man with the shears grunted and you took that as a yes. _

_The paper was small but thick. It reminded you of the Yellowstone National Park postcard your aunt sent you last summer. The edges felt rough, like they had been cut with dull scissors. It only had a few words printed in midnight blue ink against the orange backdrop. _

_Les Rêves Des Anges_

_Below that was a date. _

_Todays date. _

_You finally make it to the top of the hill that looks over the large field below. The tires skid on the loose dirt as you fling yourself over the handlebars. _

_You've never seen anything so fantastical. _

_Along one side of the stretch of land is a railroad, and sitting the tracks is the circus train. You count. One, two, three, ten, eighteen...thirty in total. You can see the tall giraffe necks poking out of one and watch with wide eyes as a lion is offloaded. Even from far away you can hear the its great roar. _

_Mom and Dad are planning to bring you down later tonight, but that wasn't soon enough. You wanted to see as much as you could. _

_In the center of the field is a flat piece of canvas in the same colors as the flyer. Men are surrounding it and you can hear a laugh or swear word every now and again. Then, before your very eyes, the men began to pull on ropes and the tent is erected. _

_Sometime later you find yourself sitting. You pull a chocolate bar from the basket of your bike. It's completely melted, and you end up scooping it into your mouth using your fingers. You spend hours just watching the people run around below you. The only sounds are the occasional roar from giant cats. _

_You don't realize how late it is until the sky starts to darken. If you're not home soon your parents might not like you visit the circus tonight, so you hop back on your bike and race home. _

_You are greeted at the door by your mother and she 'tsk's' you, but she is smiling. She sees the dirt on your knees and knows where you've spent your day. _

_"Couldn't wait until tonight, I see," she says lightly as she shepherds you into the kitchen. _

_"I've just never been to a real circus!" You say excitedly. _

_"I know, baby." A plate of mashed potatoes and meatloaf is set in front of you. Your father rounds the corner and drops a kiss to your mother's cheek before sitting. "Your father and I are excited as well."_

_Father smiles and ruffles your hair. You hate when he does that, but are too busy shoveling food in your mouth to care. The sooner your plate is clean, the sooner you can go back to the field. _

_Your patents take their time cleaning up after dinner and getting ready for the night. You bounce on the balls of your feet, unable to contain yourself. The circus is only in town for the weekend and you don't want to miss opening night. Soon you'll be able to see all those animals up close. Lions and tigers and bears and giraffes and monkeys and elephants. So many wonderful things that you've only seen on the pages of _Zoobooks_. _

_Finally Mother is grabbing her purse, while Father pulls the car keys out of his pocket. You run to the car; their laughter following you out of the house. Your fingers are frantic as you try to open the door, but it's hopelessly locked. Father takes pity on you and quickens his steps. _

_It's nightfall by the time you arrive back at the circus, and in the two hours that you've been gone it has been transformed. There are tall, cast iron fences surrounding the whole area, and children are winding through adult legs to get to the bars. The air feels different; charged with excitement. _

_You're so busy watching the way the tent looks almost black and white against the star covered sky that you almost miss the tall man approaching the gate. His suit is black with a striped tie that matches the tent. He's carrying a cane, but he is swinging it around at his side like Gene Wilder in _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_. You think he looks funny, but kind of scary at the same time. _

_"Qu'est-ce que vous rêvez?" He asks in a strange accent you can't quite place. It sounds like something from the TV. The crowd starts to mumble; most don't know what he's saying, but are trying to answer anyway. He slowly lifts a finger to his lips and silence blankets you like snow. "Come on in, and I can show you."_

_He winks._

_The gates open. _

* * *

"Are you serious?" Dean Winchester and his younger brother, Sam, say simultaneously. Dean, at ten years old, is ecstatic when John, his father, pulls the Impala into the fairground parking lot.

Sam, who's only six, is terrified and hiding his face in Mary's blond hair. He looks up, and he takes in the sight of the tent in front of them. "I don't like clowns!" He squawks. Mary 'shh's' him and turns to face her boys in the back seat.

"It's good to face your fears, Sam," she said softly. Her voice is loving, and it alone eases some of Sam's troubles. "This circus is like magic. It's been around for many, many years."

"Are there rides?" Dean asks excitedly.

"No rides, kiddo," John pipes in, "but I bet you there's some cool animals."

"Like a wookiee?"

John laughs. "Maybe not a wookiee, but definitely a lion or two."

Dean pushes his lips forward. His eyes are serious as he contemplates the circus' lack of wookiees. "I guess that's okay."

Mary and John smile and move to get their boys out of the car. Sam pretends to not hold Mary's hand as they pay for four tickets. The man behind the counter is tall and wiry and tells them to enjoy their night.

It's a Tuesday, so the crowd is fairly small, but still enough that the family has to crowd together to not get separated. Dean is thankful for John's hand casually guiding him by the shoulder, because he is too busy looking at the performers to watch his own feet.

He's never seen people like this. Contortionists and fire dancers, mingling with bearded ladies and psychics. It's bizarre, but Dean loves it. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Sam slowly meandering away from Mary's side. Dean takes the chance to slide up to his brother's side.

"Wanna ditch the losers and explore with your big bro?" Dean asked in a mock whisper as he slings his arm around his brother's skinny shoulders. Sam looked up with big, trusting eyes and nods.

Then the brothers run.

John and Mary let them have some space, but made sure they were always in sight. They trusted their boys. Their familial bond constantly brought tears to Mary's eyes. Dean would do anything for Sam, and vise versa.

The two Winchester sons wandered in and out of the smaller tents. A clown got a little too close once, but scurried away when Dean shot it a particularly scalding glare.

Dean particularly liked the psychic's tent. It was draped in heavy swatches of fabric and smelled like herbs, but not in an itchy-nose kind of way. He could have spent all his time in it's warmth, if the sound of a loud gong didn't jar his senses.

"It's time for the big show, boys," John said as he turned up beside them. The crowd moved like one large wave in the direction of the big tent in the center of the grounds. The Winchesters found four good seats and wiggled down to make themselves comfortable. When a vendor strolled down their aisle John ordered popcorn and cotton candy to share.

The lights dimmed and a large spotlight swept over the crowd before settling on a man in the center ring. Dean didn't see him at first, but it was clear by the spiffy suit and cane that he was the ring master.

"Bienvenue mes amis!" He called throughout the tent. His voice boomed naturally, and it had Dean and Sam leaning forward in their seats. "This is Les Rêves Des Anges!"

Sparklers exploded on either side of a flap in the tent and out poured men and women, dressed in tight fitting outfits that reflected the light from the pyrotechnics. Among them was a young girl, who couldn't be more than fifteen, who was spinning hula-hoops around her waist so fast Dean got dizzy. There were a few monkeys too, that sat on the shoulders of multicolored clowns. They were well trained, and kept blowing wet kisses at the audiences. Sam blew one back, and a nearby monkey caught it in his hand and smiled a toothy grin.

Sam's fear of clowns was forgotten.

They watched the show, 'ooh-ing' and 'ahh-ing' every other moment. Dean particularly liked the trapeze artists, while Sam liked the knife throwers. When the big cats made their appearance Dean had turned to John with a grin. "Look, Dad! Lions!"

"I told you!" John beamed back.

After two hours, that wasn't nearly long enough in any of the Winchesters opinions, the lights brightened. More vendors appeared, but their primary goal was to get the mass of people out of the bleachers.

The air outside had chilled, forcing John and Mary to squeeze together to warm their children.

"Wow!" Dean exclaimed. He pushed his way forward and began to tame an imaginary lion with an imaginary whip. A young girl in pigtails giggled into her hand. "That was the coolest thing in the world!"

"Can we come back again tomorrow?" Sam asked his parents. His cheeks were flushed despite the cold, and he looked hopefully upwards.

"This is their last night here, honey," Mary said slowly. "They have to pack up and go to the next town so they can show off to other little boys and girls."

"Can I go with them?" Sam and Dean asked at the same time.

"You boys can't run away and join the circus," John told them sternly, but his face was smiling.

"Maybe when we're older?" Dean asked further. He could practically imagine life on the train tracks. He would have breakfast with the lions, lunch with the giraffes, dinner with the elephants and the monkeys would be his best friends.

Mary giggled at her eldest son. "We'll see." Then she bent down so she could looked at her sons' faces. "Now since it's summer, and you've both been so good today, what do you say we go get ice cream?"

Sam whooped with joy and Dean clapped his hand on his brothers back; he had seen John do it to their Uncle Bobby enough times to know it was appropriate.

They all piled back into the Impala and drove to the nearest ice cream parlor. The boys kept talking about the wonders of the circus, and how excited they were to join; someday, anyway.

* * *

James 'Castiel' Lange flinched when Anna, his younger sister, squeezed his bicep hard enough to leave indents with her short nails. He wonders for the hundredth time that night how _exactly_ he ended up at a goddamn circus. The big show wasn't due to start for another hour, so the two siblings were aimlessly wandering the grounds. They had yet to enter a tent; neither being able to muster enough enthusiasm to do so.

Anna hated crowds, and he wasn't much better. Yet, they ended up spending their night surrounded by people. People who have decided to hate Castiel. The twenty-six year old had grown up in Pontiac. The students he graduated high school with were the same snot-nosed kids he went to preschool with. His old friends all lived within blocks of his home.

It just took one night and everything changed. Castiel subconsciously straightened his spine; because he had been obviously reckless that night, but that didn't mean he regretted it.

As he thought about it his head turned to the side to take in the sight of his sister. She looks okay, considering Castiel had spent the last week weening her off oxycontin. It broke his heart that his baby sister, who he was supposed to take care of, relapsed again. Castiel mentally crossed his fingers that it would hold this time. Anna must have sensed his staring, for she turned her head and gave him a shaky smile while loosening her grip on his arm. Castiel returned the grin, because he needed her to know he was there for her.

A man who Castiel recognizes as his Elementary school gym teacher walked past his left side, blatantly knocking his shoulder forward. When he's a few feet away he turned to glare. Castiel returned it.

"Fuck that guy, Cas," Anna says quietly from beside him.

"I just hate the staring. The hate I can ignore, but why can't they do the same?" Castiel practically growls as he shifts his glare to another man he caught staring.

"Because your the big bad criminal living around their children," she explained. Castiel could feel her arm shaking slightly; her craving always was the strongest when she was upset.

"I did what I had to do to protect you. Don't they understand that?" Castiel snapped.

"No, Cas, they don't. They just see your rap sheet." Her voice was soft, and Castiel shifted his hold on her so his arm was wrapped around her shoulder. "It's not easy for me, either, you know?"

Her statement did it's job in extinguishing his anger. Anna was right, obviously. For the four years that he was locked up, she was the one who had to deal with their small town's gossip. She alone had to deal with the stares and pointing. "I'm sorry," Castiel said as he squeezed her close.

"It's okay. How great would it be to just leave?" Anna chuckled humorlessly at the end of her question. It was ridiculous, really. Where could they go where being an ex-junkie and an ex-con were desirable?

"Well, bloody hell. Cassie?"

Castiel spun so fast he made Anna swear when she, too, was turned. A tall man in a strange costume was barreling towards him. Castiel hadn't seen his face in twelve years, but he could still recognize him. He was the same height, though his hair was considerably shorter. "Balthazar?"

"You grew up, Cassie!" Balthazar said with a smile as he pulled the younger man into a tight hug. When he decided to release his old friend, Balthazar turned to greet Anna. "Well, hello. Who might you be?"

"I'm Anna, Cas' sister." Anna held out her hand, and ended up blushing when Balthazar chose to kiss the back of her hand.

Castiel cleared his throat. He may like Balthazar, but they had a history and he didn't like him being so chivalrous to his baby sister. It was just weird. "What's going on with the costume?"

"I work here, mate. Been with the Anges for couple years now. Sword swallower, can you believe it?" Balthazar said with a wink. Castiel could believe that, actually. "Why do you two look like someone pissed in your tea? Circus's are supposed to be fun!"

Anna and Castiel shared a look. "Because Pontiac's awful." Anna decided was the best way to put it.

"Ah!" Balthazar breathed out. He opened his mouth to say more, then shut it and raised his brows to some internal thought. "I have an idea. Call me crazy, but how about you come on the road? We could always use a spare set of hands. Either until we stop somewhere that tickles your pickle, or longer. Crowley's always open for new talent."

Castiel initial reaction was one of refusal. What grown man runs away to join the circus? Then he thought harder. Nobody would know who he was, or care about his record. Nobody would look at Anna and judge her. They could see the country; because neither had been past the Illinois border. Balthazar was practically vibrating with nerves.

The dark-haired man turned at caught his sister's eyes. She liked the idea, he could tell. "I think we'd like that, Balthazar," Castiel said with a smile. "When do we leave?"

* * *

_Pensées? _


	2. Chapter One

_Author's Note: I'm not going to beg for feedback, but that doesn't mean I won't ask for it. ;) I just got the most amazing circus book for Christmas, and it makes this story that much more fun. Kudo's if you can guess the few performers I've introduced this chapter. _

* * *

Chapter One:

* * *

Dean Winchester lived in a four bedroom house on the outskirts of Lawrence, Kansas. It was on the small size, but he didn't care much. He had been able to buy the house after years of saving money and pinching pennies. Years were spent fixing up the old farmhouse and making it into a home.

He had two year-round housemates; Joanna Harvelle and Charlie Bradbury. They were each a couple years younger than Dean, but it didn't bother him. They were two of his closest friends, only following his brother.

Sam would move back to Lawrence in the summer and rent the fourth room. Currently the youngest Winchester was studying Law at Stanford. He had one year left, and Dean couldn't be prouder.

They had been living together for years now, making their system early flawless. Jo, after years of working in the kitchen at The Roadhouse, prepared the meals. Dean, having no culinary knowledge beyond what he liked and didn't like, took care of the dishes. Charlie was even worst in the kitchen and relented to sharing the rest of the cleaning duties with Sam (when he was around).

Dean was currently running through the house with Jo and Charlie trying to get everything ready. His excitement was at an all time high; like it always was on this particular day.

"When's he getting here?" Jo asked as she slammed the dryer shut. She had a set of clean sheets in her arms. One corner was dragging on the ground in front of her feet, making her trip twice before she shifting them to fit better.

Dean glanced at the clock in the kitchen. "An hour, hopefully. That's if he doesn't drive like me." With a snap he shut the fridge that was now stocked with beer (for him) and vegetables (for Sam).

"I'm so freakin' excited!" Charlie added. At a glance Dean couldn't tell what his friend was doing, only that it involved the old TV and a least fifteen feet of wire.

Dean went through his mental checklist again. It's always nerve-wracking. Every time he seems to forget that he's gotten the house ready for Sam three years already. There's food, the bathroom has been cleaned, Jo's making the bed, Charlie's doing _something_ important, there's room in the driveway for his car; everything's done. With a sigh he plops down on the freshly vacuumed couch, followed by the two women.

"So, any exciting plans for this summer?" Jo asks. She lifts her feet the rest them on the coffee table before remembering it's clean and places them back on the floor.

"Not yet, but we have to do something awesome," Dean tells them.

"Everything we do is awesome, dude," Charlie says with a laugh.

"Yeah, I know. But like, this is his last real summer. We gotta make it worth it." Dean had been wracking his brain for something truly spectacular for them to embark on during Sam's last months at the house, but nothing had seemed right.

Jo placed a hand on his knee and fixed him with a calming smile, but there was a bit of sarcasm to it as well. "Don't worry, we'll think of something."

"Shut up, Jo," Dean said as he playfully swatted her hand away.

The three friends all relaxed after that. Cleaning had taken a lot out of them, and by the time Sam arrived they had all fallen asleep on the couch.

He took a photo with his cell phone before kicking Dean's shin with his boot. Dean jumped up, jarring Jo and Charlie awake as well. "What the hell?"

"Some welcome home I get," Sam said with a smile.

Dean immediately pulled his brother into a hug before passing him off to the others.

The normal questions were asked. (How were finals? Any girlfriends? When are you going to cut your hair?) Sam answered them all, feeling completely relaxed in the farmhouse.

"So, Sammy, what sounds good for dinner?" Dean asked his brother as he placed his empty beer bottle on the floor beside the couch. Sam was lounging in the armchair with his own beer in hand.

"Whatever, I guess. I'm not really picky," Sam explains.

"Do we have the stuff for burgers?" Jo asks. She's sitting on the opposite end of the couch from Dean, with her feet across the cushions. Charlie had moved to sit on the floor between Sam's feet.

"I doubt it," Dean grumbles.

"You just went to the store!" Jo scolds as she nudges his thigh with her toes. Dean got revenge by grabbing an ankle and tickling the soles of her feet. "Stop it, Winchester! Fine, fine, I give up. Let's just go get the stuff. You guys good with that?"

Sam and Charlie both nod, spurring Dean and Jo to get of the couch. They both slip shoes on their feet and drive the short distance to the grocery store.

The drive is done in a comfortable silence. Jo and Dean had always had such an easy friendship that neither wanted to jeopardize with romance, which made their lives together easier.

Like most of their trips to the store; Dean just pushed the cart while Jo made the decisions. Multiple times Dean tried to convince her that she should just do the shopping herself. "I need you to help with the heavy bags!" Jo would always reply.

They had finished the shopping quickly, and were leaving when Dean saw it.

At the entrance to the store was a large, eight foot long by four foot tall, bulletin board. It was filled with missing posters and advertisements for school plays. Some were old, others new. Normally Dean would walk right past the flyers, but something made him stop.

In the bottom left corner, almost hidden by a RedBox machine, was a small note. It wasn't flashy; only the size of a postcard. The edges were a burnt orange, with a midnight blue center.

"Holy shit," Dean breathed out as he pulled the card off the wall and closer to his face. It looked exactly the same as he remembered it.

"What's going on?" Jo asked from over his shoulder. When she saw the card in his hand she raised a dainty brow.

"Don't you know what this is?" Dean asked. He was a little breathless, and unnaturally unashamed. After all, he had dreamed about his damned card off an on since he was ten years old. "Les Rêves Des Anges." His French was shit, but the words felt comfortable on his tongue.

"Uh, no, Dean. I have no idea what that is," Jo said with a small chuckle.

"This," Dean said as he snapped the card with his opposite hand, "is only the greatest thing to happen to Lawrence."

* * *

It was a miracle he found the card when he did. The circus was only going to be in Lawrence for one more night.

When Dean had shown Sam the card, his little brother's face had lit up. Jo and Charlie had been equal parts puzzled and intrigued. In the end they relented, because when was a circus ever a bad thing?

"But, I thought you were afraid of clowns?" Jo asked from the back seat of the Impala as they drove back roads to the fairground. She was dressed in a white sundress, and was gnawing on the end of a blonde pony tail.

"I kinda am, but this place is different," Sam answered.

"So you guys went to this circus when you were kids?" Charlie asked next.

"Best damn day of the summer, I swear to God," Dean gushed. He may or may not have been flirting with the acceleration as he drove the final mile.

Finally they pulled the black car into a parking spot and climbed out. The night was still warm, making their jackets unneeded.

The giant iron gate didn't seem quite as giant anymore, but Dean felt like he was filled with the same childlike anticipated as he looked at it. Behind it he could just make out carnies and performers mingling.

There was a giant clock set up somewhere, and once it struck five o'clock the gates swung open on their own.

"So, is there a big show, or something?" Jo asked as she walked past the threshold. Sam and Dean were a few paces ahead of her, and each offered her a glance over their shoulders before their heads snapped forwards. Jo and Charlie shared an amused look.

"There is, but we have to go through the smaller tents first. That's where all the small acts are," Sam explained. He turned a corner and was met with a flash of fire that nearly singed off his eyebrows. When the flames disappeared he saw a short brunette with a sideways smile. She raised a brow, took a sip from a small flask and raised a lighter to her lips. Sam made sure to jump out of the way of the second cloud of fire. "Whoa," he told his friends once they were a safe distance away.

"You're telling me," Charlie concurred.

The first tent they wandered into was small, and had a sandy floor. There was a man sitting Indian style on the floor. His clothes were all varying shades of beige that matched his blonde hair. The only furniture in the room was a large basket and a flute. When he began to play, a cobra raised itself from the depths of the wicker. Dean had never seen an honest snake charmer, and it was definitely more awesome than he would have thought. Sam seemed more interested than any of the others, and only left once Dean physically pulled him out.

The group were ambushed outside by a set of jugglers. Both young, barely college age, and dressed in traditional harlequin drab. One, an young Asian boy, was in red and gold and the other was in white and blue. They were passing seven balls between them like it was nothing.

There was a sword swallower, who was tall and thin. Dean was scarily impressed when the man shoved a long scimitar down his gullet.

Almost an hour since they arrived they came to a tent that was covered in little cuts. Hanging outside was a crudely made sign that read "The Death Defying Ghostfacers are unable to preform tonight due to Injury."

"Wonder what they do," Sam commented. They had made almost a complete circle and were near one of the entrances to the big tent. The youngest Winchester checked his watch. "Show starts soon. Want to just get a seat?" He gestured to the flap in the tent that acted as a doorway.

"We haven't found the psychic yet!" Dean practically wined. "It's got to be around here somewhere."

"If we keep looking we'll never find good seats. What's your deal with the psychics anyway?" Sam asked his brother. His arms were crossed, and would look a lot more convincing if it weren't for the foam clown hat on his head that Charlie had bought from a vendor.

Dean looked forward at the few remaining tents. One of them had to be the psychic. That particular tent had been the most memorable years ago, and damned if he was going to miss it. "How about you guys save me a seat, and I'll go find it."

Sam sighed, because there was no swaying his brother, and walked into the big top with Charlie and Jo. Dean waved at them half-heartedly as he walked towards another tent.

It was one of the smallest, but Dean knew it was the one he was looking for when he got near enough to smell it. The same woodsy, foreign scent wafted from the canvas. He wondered if it really was the same tent, or just made to smell like it.

It didn't matter, really. Dean just quickened his steps and entered.

The first thing he noticed was that it was dark. The already thick canvas blocked most of the artificial light, and the added velvet and cotton swatches did the rest. The smell of incense was stronger inside, and he could barely make out the smoldering ember of the stick.

Dean took a few steps before there was a flash as the psychic ignited a match. The small flame was brought to a candle, which then illuminated the entire room.

"Come, sit," the psychic said in a voice that was deep. Deeper than Dean's that was for sure.

Without thought, Dean did as he was told and finally got a good look at the man.

Dean should have been embarrassed by the jump in his heart rate. There was no doubt that the other man was good looking. A thin layer of sweat coated his palms.

There had been a few times in Dean's life where he had noticed guys. For the most part it was easy enough to sweep under his heterosexual rug. Other times it lead to awkward hookups in bathrooms and skeevy motels; and those men didn't hold a candle to the one in front of him.

A smirk began to form on his lips, and Dean gulped. If he really was psychic, then Dean was screwed. (Not literally, unless the guy was willing.)

"What is it that you seek?" The man asked, smirk firmly in place.

"Uh," Dean fumbled out, "how do you know I'm seeking something?"

The man did the psychic equivalent of rolling his eyes (which were really blue), and took a deep and controlled breath. "Nobody endeavors to find me unless they seek something."

"Okay. Would it be cheesy for me to ask what I should do with the summer?" Or my life? Dean wanted to add.

"There is merit in every question," he began before lifting both hands, palm up, on the table. Dean could spot the dark ink of a tattoo peaking out from underneath one of his long sleeves. Then Dean realized he had to touch the guy, and that there was no way to wipe the sweat off his hands without looking suspicious. With a nervous roll of his shoulders, Dean placed his hands in the psychics. The first thing he noticed were the callouses and lines of thick scar tissue. The second was that the guy had warm skin.

Blue eyes bore into him as the psychic tilted his head at Dean. "You want adventure. I can read that easily," he told Dean, and that smirk was back, though just barely. "You are searching for a reprise from the dull and mundane."

"I- uh- yeah, I guess," Dean stuttered.

"There are good things for you on the horizon." Then a lone finger rubbed a line over the tendons of his right wrist. "You should go meet your friends. You don't want to miss the show."

The man formed a perfect 'O' with his lips and blew out the candle with a warm gust of breath. Dean thought he saw him wink, but he couldn't be sure.

* * *

Dean made his way into the big tent in a daze. It was the kind of vacant, mindless state of mind that came from a night of life-altering sex. Only he was barely touched. To say it messed Dean up a bit was an understatement. He glanced over his shoulder at the small tent, if only to prove it to himself that it was really there. It was, and the only sign that anyone was inside was the small plume of incense smoke coming from the vent at the top of the canvas.

It was easy to spot his friends and brother; between Sam's height and the vibrant hair colors of the women.

"There you are!" Jo yelled once Dean sat himself down on the bench silently. His friend sized him up for less than a second, before turning to face him completely. "Did you have sex? You're wearing your sex face."

Charlie and Sam were nodding, reluctantly on his brother's side, along with Jo.

It took Dean a moment to realize that he should be denying it. "What? No, I didn't have sex with anyone. Jeez," he grumbled. He hoped his voice sounded normal, and not something high pitched and embarrassing.

"But you wanted to be, didn't you?" Charlie asked. She was raising a brow and making vulgar hand gestures in Dean's direction.

Dean was saved from having to lie by the lights going out. From somewhere to their left, a spotlight turned on and made a look around the bleachers. A drumbeat started to play; it sounded just like Dean remembered. The light landed on the center ring, where a man was already standing.

It was obvious he was the ring master. It wasn't the same man from ten years ago, that much Dean could tell. This man was shorter and a little round but handsome in a not-your-type-but-you-get-it kind of way. The other had been too tall and terrifying. "Bonsoir!" He greeted. The words were French, but spoken in a british accent. Bienvenue à Les Rêves Des Anges! Êtes-vous prêt à être surpris?"

Dean felt a feeling of _home_ wash over him before the tent blacked out again. The show was about to begin.


	3. Chapter Two

_Author's Note: I would love some feedback for this. I'm really loving writing it, and hope you're liking it. Happy (almost) New Year!_

* * *

Chapter Two:

* * *

To say that the show was good would be like saying that a vampire only liked a glass of AB Negative on occasion. Even fantastic wouldn't do it justice. Dean had been secretly nervous that he had built it up in his head and would end up disappointed.

Boy, was he wrong.

The ringmaster had a snarky charm that had them roped in from the first moment. He was the sort of man who could sell ice to eskimos, Dean was sure of it.

He introduced the first act, which was the trapeze, then seemingly disappeared into the shadows.

Dean scanned the tent for the trapeze artist, but the floor seemed empty. Then beside him he heard Jo gasp and point upwards.

Standing high up, on a platform built into the center post, was the artist. Dean couldn't make out more than her curvy figure and bright red hair. With embellished movements she swept her arms out and spun before _diving off the platform_. She fell what was likely ten feet, but to Dean seemed like a mile, before she caught herself on the trapeze. As the bar swung she pulled herself up to a standing position and bowed. Not a single beat was missed as she fell backwards, hooking her knees on the bar as she went.

Dean was half convinced the laws of gravity didn't apply to her as she continued to spin and flip and rise so effortlessly. Charlie was leaning forward in her seat and watching with bright, shining eyes. After her grand finale where she did a three-hundred and sixty degree flip and landed on the still swinging bar, she was lowered to the ground by her harness. Charlie, as well as himself and the entire tent, stood and applauded as the woman bowed with a flourish.

Next the sword swallower was introduced. His act was just as impressive the second time, if not more so. He put more blades down his throat, with what looked like a smile across his lips. Every time he pulled the swords free he would look out to the crowd and wink. It was like he wanted them to know just what he could do.

It went that way for the whole show. There would be a large act, followed by one of the smaller ones.

After the sword swallowed backed out the center ring a new man appeared. He was short, with blonde hair and a larger-than-his-head lollypop in his hand. Though it wasn't the candy that caused Dean to raise his brows and lean forward, it was the large female lion he was leading into the ring. The cat was matching the tamers very large, and very _toothy _grin.

Somewhere Dean had heard that circus's tended to have their large cats' teeth pulled. Either that wasn't the case, or the dentures were incredible. The lion stopped in the center of the ring, and sat down on his hunches like a dog. He lion tamer dropped it lead and began to lick the candy with large, exaggerated movements.

He was walking lazy circles around the lion, who watched with bright gold eyes. When the lion tamer stopped he was standing directly in front of Dean and his group. It was corny, but they laughed when the tamer acted out dropping a handkerchief. The blonde man snapped dejectedly and stomped his foot before holding the lollypop behind his back and bending at the waist to pick it up. That's when the lion licked the candy.

With one giant tongue it licked a clean line from the mans wrist, up the stick, and ending with the candy. Dean knew it was all an act, but he still found himself howling with laughter as the man spun and shook a finger at the giant cat. The lion _shrugged_ and smiled.

The act went on, where the lion eventually ate the whole lollypop and the tamer stormed off. After the lion bowed he followed his master.

"You're right," Jo whispered into Dean's ear. "This really is the best thing ever."

"I told you so, Harvelle," Dean joked back.

The contortionist was next. She was a short brunette dressed in what looked like dark leather, with a perpetual smirk on her face. She wound herself into a pretzel so fast it made Dean's bones ache. Absentmindedly he wondered what sex with a contortionist would be like, but shook it off. It would be weird, that was for sure.

There was a strong man, the two jugglers from before, and the fire breather.

Dean had never felt more alive, and he was only watching the show. Each performer had huge smiles on their faces, and Dean could only imaging the rush they felt. Before he knew it the ring master was back, and signaling the end of the show. All of the performers (lion included) circled the tent before taking their places for one large, collective bow.

Every person in the tent was on their feet, applauding and screaming. Dean looked down directly in front of him and noticed that the trapeze artist was standing right there. Next to her stood the psychic. He looked to be right at home as he gazed out at the crowd. The red headed woman had his hand clasped in hers as they took another bow.

"Who's that next to the trapeze artist?" Jo asked over the reverberating claps. "I don't remember seeing him."

"That's the psychic," Dean answered quickly, not taking his eyes off the man. In the light of the big top it was easier to take note of the handsome face and five o'clock shadow. Before Dean could stare any longer the performers turned to their right in unison and walked in the direction the exit.

When the four friends finally left the big top it was done reluctantly. None were ready to leave the spectacle behind.

The night was dark, but still warm, when they exited. The large clock read only nine o'clock. Around the small group parents were ushering out their children, who all had cotton candy stuck to their stubby fingers and wide smiles on their faces. Sam was looking around in a daze before breaking the silence.

"I don't want to go yet," he whispered like some great secret.

"Me neither," Jo and Charlie said in unison. Dean just nodded.

Sam sighed dejectedly and took the first step in the direction of the large gates when the lion tamer stepped into their path.

"Well, aren't you a bunch of sad Sallys. Didn't you get the memo? Circus's are supposed to be fun!" He gushed as he pulled a candy bar out of his pocket. The four opened their mouths to reply, but no sounds came out. The tamer didn't seem to notice or care. "Now, I'll let you in on a little secret because you're all so nice, and cause you don't have any annoying brats running around. The thing is, the gang and I are throwing an end of week shindig in the big top if you want to stick around. Who knows, maybe I'll let you pet my lion?"

Then he was gone. Sam was the first to recover; his jaw closing with an audible snap as he turned to face the others. "Was that for real?" He asked with a vague hand movement in the direction the lion tamer had just gone.

"Uh- I think so?" Jo replied just as skeptically.

"Are we- are we going?" Charlie asked next.

"I don't know about you guys," Dean began with a glance at the tent, "but I want to." All three sets of eyes widened in his direction. "Don't get me wrong, it might be a little weird. But how often do we get to party with circus performers!" Blue eyes and stubble swam behind his eyes. All right, maybe he just wanted to talk to one, but they didn't need to know that.

"Besides," he added with a smirk, "I got the keys, so you don't really have a choice. It'll be awesome, don't worry."

Sam, Charlie and Jo looked nervous, but Dean could see the excitement underneath. He took a large gulp of air and led the way back to the big top.

* * *

Circus performers could drink.

Like, completely drink Dean under the table if they had the chance. Thankfully for Dean (and his liver), he was driving so he couldn't indulge like he wanted to.

Not that the others were doing the same.

As soon as they pushed into the tent they were ambushed by the lion tamer, only this time the sword swallower was by his side.

"Oh, fresh meat!" The sword swallower said in a crisp British accent. His face was pink, like he had scrubbed off his make up and left his skin a little raw. "We always love new faces. I'm Balthazar, and this here is Gabriel." The lion tamer tipped an invisible hat and tugged on a lead Dean hadn't noticed before.

"And this is Kali, the love of my life," Gabriel exclaimed. With one final tug and click of his tongue, the lion from his act was at his heel. Dean yelped, which he would deny, and jumped back. "Don't worry, kid, she won't bite. Smile for the pretty boy, Kali!"

The lion did as she was told and showed off a toothless smile. "Isn't she still dangerous?" Dean asked. He moved a step back and over so he was mostly behind his brother, who was laughing so hard his shoulders shook.

"Can I really pet her?" Sam asked. Gabriel nodded and Sam took a step forward to run his fingers through the lions golden fur. "Holy shit! Dean come feel this!"

Dean shook his head violently. "Nah. I'm fine over here."

"Your loss, Dean-o!" Gabriel laughed. "Come on, drinks are this way."

Gabriel and Kali lead the way towards the center ring, Sam not far behind them. Balthazar held both his arms out to Charlie and Jo with a flirty, "Ladies, allow me."

Not wanting to be left alone, Dean followed. From the benches, the smell of dirt and animals was lessened, but being down on the ground it was rather pungent. It wasn't necessarily bad, just not what Dean had been expecting.

In the short amount of time since the show ended the interior of the big top had been transformed into a suitable party house. There was a keg placed in the center ring (which everyone was wholeheartedly indulging in), and a variety of music was playing through the speakers. Most of the performers were mingling with red cups of beer. They were all still wearing their costumes, but most had taken to removing their make up.

The snake charmer was speaking to the fire breather and contortionist off in one of the smaller rings. A few feet from them were two whom Dean didn't recognize from the earlier tents or the big show, but they were covered in bandages making Dean assume they were the 'Death Defying Ghostfacers.'

Dean kept scanning the crown. Where was the-

"Looking for someone?"

Dean jumped like he had been shot when the voice came from just over his shoulder. He turned and came face to face with the man of the hour. The psychic was smiling at him, as was the trapeze artist at his side. "Uh. Nope, just looking around."

"I see. I'm assuming Gabriel invited you?" The other man asked.

"Yeah. I'm Dean, by the way," Dean introduced himself awkwardly. He held out a (thankfully) dry hand, which the psychic shook.

"James, but you can call me Castiel. This is my sister, Anna," Castiel said with a tilt of his head.

Dean offered his hand to Anna next who shook it with a soft, "Nice to meet you."

"Castiel is quite the jump from James. Sounds biblical. You find religion or something?" Dean asked with a nervous laugh. He realized instantly that it sounded rude, and hoped he didn't offend the guy.

He didn't, though. Castiel and Anna just shared a laugh. "Not at all. I was a senior in High School and got a little too drunk at a party the night before graduation. I blacked out and woke up in Castiel, Switzerland. The name kind of stuck after that," Castiel explained.

"He was a legend! I was a sophomore at the time. Everyone was jealous that I was related to The Great Castiel!" Anna added with a laugh.

"How the hell did that happen?" Dean asked as he joined in their laughter.

"Hell if I know. I've stopped trying to figure it out," Castiel said with a shrug. "Our parent's were not happy. Especially when I decided I didn't care about graduation and decided to backpack for a year instead."

Dean raised a brow. He always heard stories about backpacking through Europe, but assumed it only happened in romantic comedies. "Wow. I guess you had a good time."

"We had a great time, didn't we Cassie?" The sword swallower, Balthazar, said as he slung an arm over Castiel's shoulders. "He met up with me and the Mates. We were on break from Oxford, you see, and ran into this young, impressionable American. It was our duty to show him the wonders Europeans had to offer."

Dean felt something that was definitely _not_ jealousy swim in his blood. Then Castiel shook off the other man's arm, and Dean felt better. "You'll have to excuse Balthazar. He seems to think people enjoy the stories of his sordid youth. Would you like a drink?"

"Yeah, sure," Dean managed to say. Balthazar had moved his attention to Anna and was whispering with her in excited tones. "Seems like you all know each other well."

Castiel nodded and began to walk in the direction of the keg. "Yes. We've all been with the troupe for a few years now. Anna and I joined four years ago. Balthazar was here a couple years before that. Meg and Ruby signed up a year after I did. Lucifer a year after that."

"I have no idea who you're talking about," Dean said with a laugh. They had made it to the keg and Castiel was pouring them each a drink. Dean figured he could have two, and still be okay to drive home.

"I apologize. Meg is our contortionist, Ruby breaths fire and Lucifer's the snake charmer," Castiel explained as he took a sip of his beer.

"You have a snake charmer named Lucifer?" Dean couldn't help but ask incredulously.

Lucifer must have incredible hearing, for he turned to give Dean a smirk from where he stood with Meg and Ruby. "I suppose it's impossible to be named after the devil and not have a little bit of a reptile kink," he called, making the other performers laugh. Then he stuck out his tongue at the eldest Winchester, revealing a split tongue.

"Whoa. Commitment," Dean commented. He took a large gulp of beer, while scanning the crowd for his friends. Sam was still with Gabriel and the lion. Charlie and Jo were in a circle gossiping with Balthazar and Anna.

"So what brings you all to the circus? I don't want to seem rude, but we rarely see adults here without children," Castiel asked. Dean liked the way he talked. It was all very serious and professional. He couldn't imagine a 'dude' or 'whatever' passing his lips. (Dean definitely wasn't watching them as he spoke.)

"Oh. Well, Sammy and I came here years ago as kids. Then when I saw the flyer I just knew we had to see it again. It was Jo and Charlie's first time, though," Dean told the other man. "You had a different ring master then."

"I'm assuming you saw the show when Alistair was in charge. He stepped down the year Anna and I joined. Crowley is his son," Castiel explained.

Dean nodded and took another sip of his beer. He watched as everyone around him laughed. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. Everyone looked so damn happy. Dean wanted, more than anything, to be apart of something like this every day.

"I don't mean to sound forward, Dean, but was I wrong earlier to assume that you seek excitement?" Castiel asked after a moment of silence.

Dean was taken aback. He turned to the other man, who was standing much closer than Dean realized and staring at him intently. "Yeah, I guess. Why?"

Castiel broke the eye contact and took a sip of his beer. His blue eyes were taking in the crowd, though it looked to Dean like he was lingering on his friends. "I'm good at reading people, Dean. I could see your desires to do something different the moment I saw you." Dean felt his hands sweat. Was this guy propositioning him? "I heard word from Crowley today that we're in need of a few more sets of hands around here." Apparently not.

"Are you talking about giving me a job? Here?" Dean found himself asking.

Castiel turned his head slowly to face Dean once again. "I'm talking about giving you all jobs here." He swept his free hand out, signifying Sam, Charlie and Jo as well.

"How does that work?" Dean couldn't help but ask next. It was crazy, but he found himself considering it. He had a decent job at a local mechanic shop, but it was nothing to write to the folks about; and his house was paid for, so it wasn't going anywhere.

"You start out as physical workers. Your primary jobs would surround setting up and breaking down the tents. However, in your downtime it is encouraged that you broaden your skill set. Sometimes older performers will be looking to retire, and you can shadow them. Currently, I believe we are looking for someone to take up knife throwing." Castiel's words were spoken strongly with only a few breaks for him to drink his beer.

Dean could feel anticipation bubble in his chest. "Knife throwers?" He asked.

Castiel nodded in the direction of the two men in bandages. "Zeddmore and Spangler have been causing Crowley more trouble than their worth. They've been talking about going to Hollywood to pursue television work."

"Got it," Dean said noncommittally. "Think I can talk it over with the others?"

"Please, take your time. It was just an offer," Castiel said with a knowing smile. He could see all over Dean's face how much the Winchester wanted to say yes. With a final nod, he left Dean alone, and ended up in conversation with Meg.

Dean wandered over to Sam, Charlie and Jo, who were thankfully alone.

They were also considerably tipsy, while Dean was still nursing his first beer. "This is something, huh?" He asked as he clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"This is incredible, Dean!" Jo gushed as she wrapped her arms around his middle. "Thank you so much for making us come! I don't ever want to leave!"

"Well, that's the thing. Uh- Castiel, the psychic, was just telling me that they're looking for extra work. We're all welcome," Dean explained.

"Could we really do that? Just leave and join the circus?" Sam asked. He, thanks to his humongous size, was a bit more sober than the women.

"Why not? It's your last summer as a free agent! Sammy, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity!" Dean said strongly. The more he thought about it, the more Dean wanted to do it. To just call his boss, and tell him to _suck it_.

Sam looked out at the crowd of people. Most of whom were laughing, but some who must have some idea what they were discussing and giving thumbs up signs. Charlie and Jo each had their thinking faces on; brows furrowed and lips pursed.

"I'm in," Jo said first. " Mom's been telling me I need to broaden my horizons. What could be more broad than this?"

"Charlie?" Dean asked next, hopefully. He knew that if both women said yes then Sam as more likely to follow.

"What the hell? Let's do this!" Charlie exclaimed. Then all three turned expectant eyes on Sam.

And just like Dean knew he would, Sam folded. "All right. I can't let you three run off and have all the fun, can I?"

Dean smiled broadly at his brother and turned to the crowd. Castiel was closer than Dean expected so when Dean yelled, "We're in!" over the crowd Castiel grinned.

Dean felt his hands go clammy, and realized he was in for an interesting summer.


	4. Chapter Three

_Author's Note: Hope you like it! Let me know if you do, or if you don't. I can take it. ;) _

* * *

Chapter Three:

* * *

As it turned out, it took more than the word of one psychic to land a job for the circus. Before they could start any work the four recruits had to meet Crowley, the ring master and man in charge.

That's how Dean and the others found themselves following the two young jugglers, Kevin and Alfie as they introduced themselves, through the maze of partially deconstructed tents.

"How long have you guys been working here? You can't be older than nineteen," Sam remarked from behind Dean. Typical Sam Winchester; always worrying about the kids.

"I'm going to be nineteen in a month. I've been with the troupe since I was eighteen," Kevin answered. "Things were really stressful at home. Since I was a freshman it was Princeton Princeton Princeton. I thought I would just get away for a bit, but then I could never bring myself to leave."

"It was kinda the same for me," Alfie said next, "but I had to live up to my siblings accomplishments. Hester and Inias were CEO's and I could only get work at the Weiner Hut."

Dean wanted to offer condolences, but he ended up laughing instead. "Hester and Inias? I guess your parents let you off easy, huh?"

"Alfred is my middle name. My real name is Samandriel," Alfie mumbled. He ducked his head, but Dean could see the pink on his cheeks.

"Never mind, then," Dean said with another small laugh, and a goodnatured clap on the boy's shoulder.

"I like Samandiriel," Charlie added. "It's like something out of Moondoor."

"How does everything come back to Moondoor with you?" Jo giggled. Of the four, she was the one who was still feeling the effects of the earlier beers. Most would think that being the daughter of a bar owner would guarantee a high tolerance, but for Jo that was not the case.

Alfie's cheeks, if possible, got redder. "Wow. Thanks, I guess. Well, here we are." Dean looked up at the trailer in front of them. Surrounded by tents, the metal room looked out of place. Maybe the boss just wanted to stand out. Dean didn't give it much thought as he led the group up the stairs and onto the small landing in front of the door.

"Good luck, guys. Crowley's a dick, but I think you can hold your own," Kevin said just as Dean's hand twisted the handle.

Dean threw the kid one last cocky smile over his shoulder before entering the 'office.'

It was sparsely furnished; only holding a desk, a few particleboard bookshelves and an ostentatious high-backed armchair. The walls were covered in promotional posters that Dean would love to get a closer look at. At a glance he could tell that they advertised the current acts at Les Rêves De Anges. The one of Castiel was particularly eye-catching.

"You coming in or are you going to lollygag in the doorway all night? It's bloody freezing," the man in the armchair snapped without looking up from the book in his lap. It wasn't freezing, but they closed the door nonetheless. "So word is, you four want to join our merry band of misfits, eh?"

Sam nondescriptly elbowed Dean in the side. It was the younger Winchesters way of saying, 'this was your idea.'

"Uh, yeah," Dean blurted lamely. Sam shot him an exasperated look and he added, "If you're cool with it. We're good workers. We can pull our weight."

"You better. Or I'll toss you out with the stale funnel cakes." Crowley finally raised his eyes to look at the group and he pursed his lips. "Well, at least you're not hideous."

"Thanks?" Sam said uncertainly.

"Blah blah you're welcome, blah blah blah. So I need some new knife throwers. Rocky and Bullwinkle, think you can make that work?" Crowley asked with a pen pointed between the two brothers.

Dean looked at his brother, and saw his own look of apprehension mirrored there. "I think we could learn," Dean said after a moment of silent conversation.

"Brilliant. Now, I don't know what to do with the birds, but I'm sure we'll figure something out. I'd suggest you get going and pack, or whatever. We're leaving in the morning and should be in Guthrie, Oklahoma by noon. Be there, and the jobs're yours." Crowley smiled a truly devilish smile and waved his hands in an obvious dismissal.

The group stood frozen in their spots for only a second before bolting from the office.

They had a lot of packing to do.

* * *

Dean was nearly positive he ended up with Jo's underwear packed in his suitcase, whereas he probably forgot his own.

It was midnight by the time the four friends got back to the house, and they unanimously decided they could get a few hours sleep before leaving for Guthrie.

Sam was the one to wake first, and he had the foresight to brew a pot of coffee before waking the rest. It took a couple cups of strong coffee before the caffeine kicked in and chaos started.

There was yelling and arguing and laughing and more yelling before duffle bags were thrown into the trunk of the Impala and the journey began. Jo had printed directions in her hands, and was working as the navigator from her spot in the backseat. The coffee buzz had worn off enough to allow normal conversation by the time the car merged onto Interstate 35.

"Are we crazy? This feels crazy," Sam said suddenly, making Dean swerve just slightly.

"It is a little crazy, but too late to turn back now," Dean said with a smile. He had been trying to keep his emotions in check, but he was close to bursting with excitement.

"It's gonna be amazing!" Charlie threw in. She had scooted to the middle of the seat in the back, and was leaning forward with both forearms on the back of the front bench. "You guys really going to throw knives at each other?"

"I don't think we have much of a choice," Dean said in reply.

"You'll both do great," she said with as much finality as a former hacker could when talking about knife throwing. "You see anybody you want to do the nasty with?" Again, Dean started and swerved into the next lane. He thanked whoever was out there that there wasn't any oncoming traffic. Charlie just laughed. "I'll take that as a yes."

"No, you- uh- you just surprised me, that's all," Dean sputtered. As he said it dark bed head and blue eyes blinked across his subconscious. His cheeks flushed against his will.

"Who was it?" She pressed further. "Fire breather? Contortionist?"

"Wha-? No, jesus," Dean said loudly with as much finality as he could muster.

Sam turned in his seat and smirked at his brother. Dean gulped. Of the people in the car, only Sam was aware of the little rainbow flag Dean sometimes waved. It wasn't that the eldest Winchester was hiding it; he just never met a guy he liked enough to bring home. Sam was special because he had the unfortunate luck to in the wrong motel room at the wrong time during one of their long road trips.

Charlie seemed vaguely satisfied and moved the conversation along. For the majority of the trip Dean kept his eyes on the pavement in front of him, adding his two cents when he needed to. It seemed that every mile closer the Impala got to Guthrie, the more he found himself doubting their decision.

It _was_ crazy. He was a twenty-eight year old man, and he _ran away_ to join the _circus_. He couldn't help but think about what John and Mary would think. Would they think their sons were making some grand mistake? He hoped not.

Dean tried to discreetly shake the thoughts from his head.

Yes, he was nearly thirty, but he was a nearly-thirty year old who hated his job and had the free will to change that.

The thought made him smile a little brighter and join the others in more earnest conversation.

They made it to Guthrie at eleven, and quickly found the railway. They followed the iron lines for a mile or two around town before they found a clearing that they thought the circus would make camp. Dean checked his watch. It was quarter after eleven.

"What do we do now?" Dean asked the empty car as he looked out the window at the empty field.

"Food?" Sam asked with a raised brow. Charlie and Jo nodded in agreement, but Dean shook his head.

"You go. I want to wait here," Dean found himself saying. Sam frowned. It was unlike his older brother to turn down what would no doubt be a greasy diner breakfast.

"Seriously?" Jo piped in incredulously.

"Yeah. I mean, we're here. I would hate to miss something," he waved his hand around vaguely and jumped out of the cab. Sam slid across the bench and leaned out the open window to face his brother.

"You sure?" Dean nodded away Sam's concern.

He took a few steps away from the Impala before pointing a finger at his brother. "Just pick me up a piece of pie!"

Sam shook his head at his brother's obsession with flaky pastry and fruit before revving the Impala's engine and driving in the direction of the town.

* * *

Dean lasted only ten minutes before he started to regret not joining the others for breakfast. It was stupid, really. He was just afraid that if he left, then the whole circus would dissolve into something he imagined.

He gave up feeling sorry for himself (and hungry) and sat down on the grown under a nearby tree. It was starting to warm up, and the shade was a welcome friend.

The hurried packing and traveling was starting to take it's toll, and Dean felt his eyelids droop closed. He wasn't sure if he slept, but the sound of an engine approaching made him start upright.

It wasn't the Impala; Dean would recognize his Baby anywhere. Whatever was headed in his direction didn't even sound like a car. Before he could try and guess, a motorcycle rounded the corner onto the field.

Dean wasn't as knowledgable in the realm of two wheeled vehicles, but he knew it wasn't anything modern. The driver must have seen him, because they drove directly to the tree. Once the driver was a few feet away Dean recognized who it was.

Castiel stopped the bike, and climbed off it gracefully. He removed his old fashioned helmet and aviator sunglasses before smiling at Dean.

"Hello, Dean," he said kindly.

"Hey, Cas," Dean replied, trying to not sound like he was in complete awe.

Castiel looked over his shoulder and raised his brows. "You didn't walk here, did you?"

"No, Sam and the girls went for breakfast. I, uh, I wasn't hungry," Dean explained lamely. "What are you doing here?"

"Crowley wanted someone here early incase you arrived before the wagon," Castiel said. "And since I was technically the one that offered the job, I assumed I should be the one to do it."

"That makes sense, I guess," Dean told the other man with a nod. He could feel his palms begin to sweat again, and he flushed. "Is that your bike?"

"No. Crowley bought it as well as a Ball of Death at an auction last year, and it's much faster than any of the other cars we have." Castiel patted the motorcycles handle fondly. He then turned his blue eyes on Dean, who tried not to squirm.

"Has anyone ever told you that you stare at people? Like, a lot?" Dean asked, and he would deny how breathless he sounded.

"Yes, actually. But I am a psychic. Staring is a job requirement." Castiel pulled a box out of his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He raised a brow in a 'do you mind?' gesture. Dean shook his head. As Castiel lit the cigarette, Dean was at least able to answer why the man's voice was so wrecked. "So, are you nervous?"

"Me? Nervous? Ha!" Dean laughed a little hysterically and turned to see Castiel leveling him with a look that clearly said, 'I don't believe you.' Dean ran a hand along the back of his neck. "I that obvious?"

"You are, but that is nothing to be afraid of." Castiel lifted the cigarette to his lips and took a long drag.

Dean was transfixed, and was positive that if he were to open his mouth that he would end up embarrassing himself. He had no idea what it was about this guy, but it was uncanny how he could Dean could have a normal conversation with him and still feel like his blood was on fire. Not to mention the fear that the man was a real psychic and knew all of his inner turmoil.

He was saved from having to try to converse more by the simultaneous sounds of the Impala and a large train.

Les Rêves Des Anges's train was right out of old books and ads. Every car was brightly pained, and had a degree of wonder that a semi-truck could never have. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam park his Baby and climb out to watch the train. Jo and Charlie did the same.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" Castiel asked from beside Dean.

"Yeah, it's definitely something else," Dean replied.

Castiel finished his cigarette and stomped the butt out on the ground before taking off in a sprint towards the train. With ease he grabbed at a safety bar and hoisted himself into one of the cars.

"I think I know who you want to do the nasty with," Sam's voice said from over Dean's shoulder. Stupid giant always was good at sneaking up on people. When the words made it past Dean's ears he flushed.

"Shut up, Sammy. You don't know what you're talking about," Dean denied. Luck wasn't on his side, however, because Sam only needed to look at his brother's face to know that he was right.

The train came to a complete stop and the flurry of activity was overwhelming. People poured out of the carriages like water. All were dressed in civilian clothes and laughing together. Dean could make out a few familiar faces. He didn't see Castiel again, though. The psychic must have had to work inside.

A large man whom Dean recognized as the strong man was speaking to Crowley by the caboose. Once the ringmaster pointed in their direction the man nodded and walked the short distance to the newcomers.

Once he was close enough Dean was able to take in his features. He was wearing a tight henley long sleeved shirt and a black cap. His face was friendly as he approached. Dean felt Jo straighten beside him. Another, much closer, look at the man told him that he was indeed his friends 'type.'

"Hi there," he greeted in a southern drawl. "Y'all are the newcomers I hear? The names Benny. Benny Lafitte. The boss wants me to show you the ropes since Castiel is on ad duty."

"Ad duty?" Dean found himself asking, which earned him a smirk from Sam. (He tried, and failed, to ignore it.)

"It's that pretty face o' his. First day he hits the town, and gives the ladies a taste of his hoodoo mumbo jumbo. All boring stuff if you ask me, but it works," Benny said with a smile. Without warning he clapped his large palms together loudly, making the others jump. "Now, who's ready for some real work?"


End file.
